


Paper and Matches

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Femlock, First Time, Genderbending, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: not britpick-ed nor beta-edhappy valentines day!





	

**Author's Note:**

> not britpick-ed nor beta-ed  
> happy valentines day!

“The damn papers are still going on about it.” John tells her, rustling the pages in her strong hands.

Sherlock hums, though she’s a little distracted by the crack on the ceiling near the fireplace, wondering if she should repair it or keep it there for observation, wondering if John would make her fix it if she found it, and wondering how long it would take John to notice.

“They’re trying to spin it into some sort of Thelma and Louise thing, how we’re madly in love and I couldn’t bare to not jump after you.” She huffed. “More like I know you would sink like a stone in the damn River Thames if I didn’t go after your stupid arse.”

“Well it’s not as if they’re completely wrong.” Sherlock says, a little distracted until she realizes what she’s just said and a jolt passes through her brain telling her to shut up.

John looks surprised for a moment, and then.

“Sherlock…” John tells her, and she has that sad smile on her face, the one she has a lot when she’s dealing with Sherlock. It’s sad and maybe a little pitiful, a lot of that semi-manufactured doctor’s warmth that they must teach them in medical school so they don’t flounder when they have to tell a patient they’re dying. Sherlock’s never liked the look of it, but now it’s almost too much to handle, now that she’s more or less laid herself bare the smile looks like something that’s about to break her.

 No Sherlock doesn’t like the look of this smile at all.

 Sherlock feels her heart thudding against her ribcage, so hard and fast it’s as if it is trying to escape from this situation as much as Sherlock desperately wants to. Sherlock knows what John is trying to do, tell her that this has gone on long enough, that she really must stop entertaining this foolish crush because it’s never going to happen between the two of them. She’s letting her down once and for all, apparently having grown tired of waiting for Sherlock to stop.

“I-I’m sorry, John… I didn’t want it to come to this, but I’m afraid I must ask one selfish thing of you.” Sherlock interrupts her, pleading and still a little shaky. “Please don’t leave. Stay here, at Baker street, and I promise I will stop, I will make myself stop being in love with you, just give me time. I may have to delete some things and it might take a while, but I can do it I promise.”

 Sherlock knows she’s babbling and sounding ridiculous, probably a touch too dramatic as well, but she can’t seem to stop herself. Nothing is more important than John being here, not even Sherlock’s feelings.

“Sherlock.” She repeats, still sounding a little sad though Sherlock cannot stand to look at her when she knows what she’ll see, instead she resolutely looks at her own pale hands that have themselves wrapped so tightly against each other her knuckles are white as paper. “Look at me.”

John knows exactly what she’s doing as usual when it comes to these things. But Sherlock is nothing if not stubborn and refuses, eyes locked in place and head tilted down.

It’s all in her plan to just stay here like this until John gives up, goes to bed, decides she’s actually going to move out or they can forget all about it, but that’s not what happens. Instead Sherlock is shocked out of her concentration by a warm hand on her jaw, startling her into looking up and into John’s big blue eyes.

“There you are.” She says softly. “There you are, love.”

Sherlock feels her lips part in wonderment at the endearment, and at the look on John’s face. It’s less sad than before, mostly just soft and open, a little hopeful. Sherlock lets out a little whimper of relief at the sight.

“Oh, Sherlock.”

 John is kneeling in front of Sherlock’s chair, her hand still moving along the edge of her face, fingers carding into her loose curls and then sliding down to caress her cheek. Sherlock feels herself melt into the touch.

“Please.” John says. “May I?”

Sherlock isn’t exactly sure what she was asking but she knows that there was nothing she could deny John at this moment. She would pull out her still beating heart with her own hand if that’s what John wanted. Luckily she’s spared the dramatics of something quite so literal though, as soon as she nods, quick and jerkily, John presses herself up to kiss her.

Their lips meet softly, a dry but pleasant kiss that Sherlock could feel spreading electricity through her body. Her hands let go of each other, but grasp onto the fabric of her chair instead, keeping her from reaching out and grabbing John and never letting her go, as she’s sure she would if given the chance.

“J-John…” She tries.

“What is it, love? What do you want?” John asks, very concerned with her at the moment.

“I-I don’t know what I want.” Sherlock tells her, sounding very small and so unlike herself.

“That’s okay.” John assures her. “We’ll find out. Let’s start with more of this though.”

John kisses her once more, a little deeper than before, a little less shaky.

They kiss for what seems like hours but couldn’t have actually been more than a few minutes, John’s hands migrate down to grasp Sherlock’s thighs and Sherlock forgets how time even works.

Eventually Sherlock decides she can trust herself to touch John. She slides up her hands, pushing them underneath John’s jumper to brush against her warm, soft, flesh and she shivers in a manner that Sherlock can deduce is not completely due to her poor circulation manifesting in chronically cold fingers.

“Would you like to move this to the couch?”

“No.” Sherlock says. “Bedroom.”

“Right. Okay.” John licks her lips.

Sherlock nods and stands up, bringing John along with her to her bedroom, she was very glad that risk paid off, she was a little worried she’d been pushing her luck after everything else she’d gotten that day. Before she lost her nerve she flung them both into her bedroom, closing the door behind them, and began to remove her clothes. She’s not sure how far John is willing to take this tonight, but she’s ready to take as much as she’ll give her.

Her shoes had already been removed earlier in the day so she set on pushing off her black slacks and socks before the tedious task of unbuttoning her blouse, even while moving as fast as possible each button took far too long to free. As she worked on that she chanced a look back at John who was standing and staring at her in a way that might have been concerning if her gaze didn’t seem to snap her back into attention. Once Sherlock’s eyes met hers John quickly kicked off her shoes and started working on the rest of her outfit, the soft cotton jeans and baggy beige jumper were pushed off just moments after Sherlock’s blouse.

She kneels on the bed and waits for John to finish and follow her. John is stripping very quickly and methodically, not in any way meant to be erotic, but still Sherlock feels an ache low in her stomach and her nipples harden underneath the black sports bra she was still wearing for some reason.

 With that thought she makes short work of that as well, catching John’s eye and watching her do the same.

Logically Sherlock knows what John’s body looks like, would be able to draw every angle of it with perfect accuracy, after being flat mates for so long she’s seen her in many compromising positions, but this was new. John was undressing for her, John was stripped down to a piece of lace that’s hardly an undergarment, John was making the mattress dip under her weight as she moves to kneel in front of Sherlock. John was so beautiful and Sherlock finally got to have her to herself.

Sherlock steadies herself with her hands on John’s thighs and moves forward to kiss her which John accepts hungrily, grabbing at Sherlock’s waist like she can’t keep her hands off her and making Sherlock groan.

They stay like that for a moment, John pressing her hands all along Sherlock’s back until she moves them around to her front, swiping her thumbs across the indents between her ribs and pressing up to rub against her very hard nipples.

“A-ah! Sensitive.” Sherlock breathes.

 John nods sympathetically and tries a different approach, instead of paying attention to her nipples she moves a hand under each of her breasts, kneading them gently. They’re barely a handful and John honestly doesn’t know if what she’s doing is helping, but luckily Sherlock, as always, lets her know. She lets out a pleased noise somewhere between a hum and a purr, oddly enough, and moves her body closer to John.

From where they are sitting it is easy for Sherlock to press herself against John’s knee to relieve some of the ache she’s feeling. She groans loudly as the damp black fabric of her sensible briefs comes into contact with John’s bare skin and John surges up to kiss her, not able to wait a single second more.

She kisses her and Sherlock grinds down on her soft leg and John moves her mouth away from hers just a bit, just enough so that Sherlock can let out short huffs of pleasure and John can breathe in her air. They press their foreheads against each other, John nuzzles her nose, Sherlock lets out a breath that could be a laugh.

Either way John feels a small smile creep up at the corner of her lips. She decides to take this opportunity to separate them a little, just enough to pull Sherlock’s knees gently from under her so she’s laying down. Sherlock, who wasn’t expecting the sudden movement, lets out a rather undignified noise, looking a little put out that she’s no longer able to press herself against John from down there.

 John smiles and kisses the pout off her lips.

John moves her way down Sherlock’s body, kissing and caressing every inch and digging her fingers in a little harshly when she reaches the soft flesh of her arse, that and her hips seemed to be the only place where Sherlock had any mass to speak of and John wanted to make sure and worship it. She dug her fingers nimbly under the waistband of her briefs and pulled them down her long legs, fingers trailing over Sherlock’s flesh, to throw them somewhere across the bedroom.

Sherlock pants and gasps above her, half of it was probably pleasure the other half just dramatics based around the fact that they’re actually doing this after so long. Either way the sounds were doing wonders for John’s ego.

John smiles and presses a small kiss to her inner thigh, taking a moment just to savor the fact that she’s able to do this, before she grabs at the back of her thighs to push them over her shoulders. John presses more and more frantic kisses to her stomach and pelvis, moving downward until she gets to her pubic hair, it’s unkempt and sprawling like a dark cloud over her and John doesn’t know what makes that seem so erotic.

She pushes her thumb between her lips and is shocked by how wet Sherlock is already, as she moves over her hole she can actually feel a gush of liquid come out of her which makes her and Sherlock moan and whimper respectively. Sherlock’s legs tighten reflexively around her head and John takes it as her cue, lowering her mouth down to press an open mouthed kiss over her.

Sherlock keens, loudly and embarrassingly, and her legs twitch, they seem to be trying to decide if they wanted to fall open or continue their chokehold on John. She licks straight down from clit to entrance and the chokehold wins out. She wraps her legs around John like a pair of trembling earmuffs and cants her hips upwards trying to get more friction. The gorgeous neediness of it makes John melt a little. Her hands reach up so her fingers can dig into the dips around Sherlock’s prominent hipbones, giving her something to hold onto.

John sucks and licks at Sherlock almost gently, over the hood covering her clit and down her inner lips, not wanting to rush it no matter how Sherlock begs and seems to be on the edge from the get go. John stiffens her tongue a little to lap at her dripping hole, collecting the slick liquid with her mouth in a way that should feel dirty, but mostly just feels hot and _right_. Sherlock is burning up hot and John can feel her pulsing around her, it’s enough to make her moan herself, and she feels herself leaking through her own lacy underwear, the ache increasing tenfold.

 John pulls herself away with a gasp, pushes her torso up so she can see Sherlock and smiles.

Sherlock looks a mess.

Her hair is twisted and frizzy over the pillow, her skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat from neck to toe, her hands are clasped in her expensive sateen sheets so tightly it looks like it might hurt, and her beautiful face is twisted in an agonizing expression of pleasure. Eyebrows knitted together and mouth open and lips trembling around shaky breaths.

She’s a gorgeous mess.

John removes her hands from her hips, noticing the little pools of red that will surely bruise her delicate skin, and moves up to kiss her again.

Their lips meet with Sherlock’s legs still hanging over John’s shoulders, Sherlock tasting herself on John, and John’s finger pressing against her entrance. She was tight, obviously, but wet and relaxed enough that there wasn’t much resistance, just a wet pulsing heat around John’s finger and a gasp transferred into her mouth.

She curls her finger upwards towards Sherlock’s stomach and, finding what she was looking for, starts thrusting it in and out roughly. Sherlock breaks the kiss and throws herself back onto the pillows with almost a yell, John can feel her dripping down her palm which makes her smirk lightly and pick up the pace even more.

“ _More_.” Sherlock screeches, the sound frantic and unrestrained.

John adds her middle finger, slowing down but going just as deep until she feels Sherlock’s muscles relax enough to take it. With two fingers in her Sherlock was a goner, her breath coming in broken pants and her legs shaking uncontrollably until it all finally stopped.

Every muscle in her body seems to stiffen at once, her back arches up and her entire body is pulled taut like a string on her violin. Sherlock lets out one last broken cry before she goes lax, everything except her hips, still canting upwards slowly, and her entrance, still pulsing and throbbing and _gushing_ around John’s fingers trying to keep them inside, seems to melt into jelly. She is breathing harshly, her pulse frantic, and John even notices some tears had fallen from her pale eyes at some point, leaving hot wet tracks down her cheeks.

John releases her fingers, finally maneuvers herself from under Sherlock so her legs can relax and she can lay next to her, and lays sweet kisses over Sherlock’s face to try and calm her. Sherlock eventually turns her body to face John, evening out her breathing and looking at her with a reverence through red rimmed eyes and swollen cupid’s bow lips.

“Hey, you.” John whispers.

“Hey…” she manages.

“You alright? You’ve gone a bit croaky.” John smiles softly.

“I’m better than I have ever thought possible.”


End file.
